Respite
by LadyRudo
Summary: With the Meteor crisis behind them, scarred hearts bear the weight of simply going on, learning that relief can come in the most unexpected places.
1. Chapter 1

Time had slowed to a crippled crawl. Cool blue eyes stared at the silver wall clock, absentmindedly watching the second hand tick away fractions of a life. Despite himself, the Turk considered the current state of affairs.  
His city had fallen. The President had somehow postponed his own demise, yet now sat ever-so-patiently on Death's doorstep. What little fragments remained of Shinra Incorporated were dark and hollow, faces sapped of smiles and eyes drained of the trademark light that once belonged to purpose. The death of an empire was slow and heavy, taking down everyone that once thrived in it.  
Healin Lodge's air was thin and crisp, sanitizing chemicals piercing the senses and numbing them at the same time. Surviving Avalanche, the fall of the Tower, and Meteor seemed simple feats when compared with keeping his sanity in the cold darkness that was Rufus's infirmary. The President had only recently begun to come out of his sleep for an hour at a time. Yet a Turk need always be at his side, should he need anything at all. Shinra's finest intel operatives, spies, and assassins had been reduced to nurses.  
These thoughts sent a wave of nausea over him as he leaned back in his chair, balancing on the back legs with ease. His hands raised over his head as he took a deep, soothing breath, and fell to rest in his fiery red hair. He chuckled tiredly at the blatant irony that lined his depressing train of thought: he was supposed the be the cheery one.  
Reno turned his attention to his charge. The white linens that shrouded Rufus seemed to fit perfectly, he thought. Clean, crisp, sterile, cold. He smirked at the resilience of the persona. Even at the edge of death, Rufus controlled the room.

_"You know, you haven't assigned a VP since you took over." _  
_ Rufus raised his pistol at the target waiting yards down the shooting range._  
_ "Why would I need one?" He fired, each bullet puncturing the chest of his paper foe. Reno whistled, impressed with both the shooting and the ego._  
_ "You know, to ease the workload for yourself, to manage the less important company affairs. To...succeed you."_  
_ The air seemed to chill as Rufus turned his gaze toward Reno. _  
_ "Have you failed to make me aware of threats?"_  
_ "No. You've met them," Reno replied just as sharply, recalling Rufus's encounter with Avalanche on the roof of the Tower._  
_ "I see no cause to rush the assignment, then. And maybe," he added, blue eyes twinkling with what Reno hoped was not honesty, "I intend to take the whole company down with me."_  
_ "It's yours to do with what you will," Reno replied with a grin of comedic acceptance. _

"Mission accomplished, Sir," Reno said to ears that could not hear him. He leaned on his forearms on the railing of the bed and watched the comatose president breathe shallow, raspy breaths. Unthinkingly, he reached forward and pushed several light strands of hair out of Rufus's face. They caught on the gauze that wound around his forehead, covering his left eye. Reno dare not let his fingers go nearer to that wound. Instead, he rested his head on his arms and watched Rufus, willing him awake. Within minutes, his own eyelids were weighted, and he drifted into sleep.  
The protest of his aching back pulled him from his nap. Upon opening his eyes, Reno lifted his hand away from where it had fallen on Rufus's cool arm. He rubbed the evidence of his sleep from his eyes and turned back toward the clock.  
"Ten minutes? Good gods..." he grumbled. "I gotta get outta here," he said to himself, standing abruptly and looking down at his boss. "Are you getting up today?" he asked, immediately feeling foolish at the question. Rufus unsurprisingly failed to answer, and Reno stretched, deciding that some fresh air would rejuvenate his chronically-dampened spirit.

Immediately, he was drawn to the back of the property. Since noticing a narrow wooden staircase leading to the lush ground below the lodge weeks before, Reno had intended to take a trip to the feature that had drawn Shinra's developers to the area: the waterfall.  
He descended the staircase carefully: it had proven steeper than it appeared, and a single misstep could have ended the trip before it even began. The waterfall's mist saturated the air below the lodge, and it felt somehow both heavy and refreshing in Reno's lungs. When his boots hit the grass, a deep sigh escaped him. Sunshine had proven scarce in the last several weeks, and yet wildflowers bloomed amid the small green hills. Reno paused to look at a particularly bright pink flower. Familiar uneasiness began to set in as his mind ran in its most common direction: backward.

_"What is this?" Rufus asked, staring down at his desk, where a light pink flower lay before him._  
_ "_That_ is a real, live flower. Well, it was alive. It's likely dying now," Reno explained, a proud smirk on his face._  
_ Rufus met Reno's gaze, unamused. The Vice President knew there was no need to vocalize his thoughts. Reno caught the message quickly, and continued._  
_ "Obviously, you knew it was flower. What you _didn't_ know, is that it was growing in Midgar."_  
_ "First off, that's impossible. Secondly, I don't care. Why would you assume I care about a flower? I don't even care about your reasoning."_  
_ Reno took well to such feigned indifference, enjoying the game he had begun._  
_ "I admit, I thought it was impossible too, what with Shinra sapping Midgar's earth dry. I was out for the Ancient today in 5, and lo and behold, flowers all over the place in there."_  
_ "You didn't capture the Ancient?" Rufus assumed, as she was mentioned only on a whim. Reno laughed once and shook his head._  
_ "Not even close."_  
_ "So instead, a flower. Does Father know?" Rufus asked, already knowing the answer. Again Reno laughed, then headed for the office door, leaving the flower with Rufus._  
_ "Of course not. Why would the President have an interest in Midgar's botany?"_  
_ Rufus let his mouth fall slightly open at the response, and fought a smile as Reno disappeared into the hallway._

A small flock of blackbirds flew just overhead, snapping Reno back into the present. He shook his head to break his gaze away from the flower. They fell instead on the waterfall, and where it ended. Several yards away, a large pond rippled gently at the base of the main attraction. Along the grassy bank ran a natural path of large rocks that led into a small cave behind the waterfall. Reno smiled at his good fortune and headed toward the opening.  
He privately celebrated his discovery of the cave by lowering to the smooth stone ground and stretching out on his back to watch the secret side of the waterfall. His mind wanted to stray, as it often did lately, but he kept it quiet, staring at the water as it crashed into the pond. The repetition of the falling water combined with the quiet roar of its impact with the pond quickly caused his eyelids to feel heavy again. He glanced at his thick black watch and internally shrugged. Rufus would be fine for another half hour.  
The sleep was dreamless, but deep. His tired body fell completely still, the side of his face eventually falling to rest on the cool ground. Despite his years of training, he did not notice the vibration from light footsteps entering his cave. He did not notice the practiced, black-gloved hand disarm him. He did not notice anything at all, until physical contact was actually made. His eyes flew open to find his wrist held between three long fingers. Instinctively, Reno jerked his arm back, simultaneously reaching for his EMR and stumbling to a standing position. The figure before him rose much more fluidly. Reno patted himself down, realizing his weapons had been taken. He braced himself for a hand-to-hand fight as his mind tried to grapple with the man's identity.  
"Who...? What are you doing...?" he tried, words failing him in his groggy surprise. He cursed himself for letting his reflexes slip so far in their disuse.  
"I like that question. So many have no need to ask it anymore...I was checking your pulse, Turk. You sleep like the dead."  
As the man spoke, Reno's brain went into overdrive to put the pieces together. He had seen him before, though never heard the voice. Diamond Weapon's attack on Midgar. Avalanche had been there to kill Hojo. Strife, Lockhart, and him. They crossed in the street; he had had a streak of blood across his face, though his dark hair had hidden it for the most part. He had suspected the blood was not the man's own. Why had he felt a connection when he saw him? Back in Midgar, those unique eyes had scanned his suit in a flash disapproval. Why would he have cared about a Turk's appearance? _You sleep like the dead._  
"Valentine," he uttered when his memories came together. The name must have come out with an edge, as Vincent lowered his head and squared his jaw slightly.  
"I don't care to hurt you, I was just protecting myself. Needlessly, it appears," Vincent replied, raising his metallic left arm and tossing Reno the EMR. He caught it easily, but did not holster it.  
"Why are you in Healin?" Reno asked suspiciously.  
Vincent was quiet a moment, before answering. "I come here often."  
A moment of tension passed between the two. The silence allowed Reno's mind to return to his duty, and the fact that he had abandoned it for an unknown time.  
"Just stay away from the lodge," he warned, turning quickly and exiting the cave, leaving Vincent standing behind the waterfall.


	2. Chapter 2

Rufus lay still and silent as ever when Reno rushed back into the room. Immediately, he felt like a fool for hurrying back.  
"Hope I didn't miss anything," he mumbled, haphazardly dropping into the chair at the side of the bed. He longed, as he often did, for one of Rufus' signature sarcastic comebacks. The silence was worse than an insult.  
He took the remainder of his shift to replay his outing in his memory. How had he allowed Valentine to get so close? How had he failed to notice his presence? Reno cursed himself again, repeating the conclusion: _I could have been killed._  
As the scene replayed, his mind eventually shifted focus. He realized he could hardly recall the expression on Vincent's face. He could not remember what he was wearing beneath the red cloak. The fog of sleep and endless shifts at the lodge left his senses dull. He could hear the deep voice, but not the words it had spoken. He knew about the red eyes, but could not recall looking at them. The few seconds of contact had left him with more questions than answers.  
When the fingers closed on his shoulder, Reno shot up out of his chair and backed against the white wall. Rude stepped backward and raised his palms in peaceful protest.  
"Chill, brother. You were hardly in the room. Something happen?" Rude asked, watching Reno smooth his jacket in a physical display of calming his own nerves.  
"Yes. No," he closed his eyes to regain control of his tongue. "Yes, I was spacing out. No, nothing happened." His eyes returned to Rufus to confirm his line.  
"If you say so. Get out of here. Tseng has a meeting scheduled for tomorrow at noon."  
"Tell me it's in Edge. Dear Rude, lie to me and tell me it's anywhere but here," Reno pleaded comically. The sliver of true desperation was not lost on his partner.  
"Sorry. I would think if he wakes up, you, of all people, would want to be here."  
Reno bristled slightly at the indirect reference to his past with Rufus.  
"Yeah, yeah. I'm out of here," he replied, giving Rufus one last glance before heading for the door. Rude silently let him leave.  
As Reno slinked down the outer stairs toward the street, his thoughts returned to his afternoon trip. His head turned involuntarily toward the waterfall, his chest tight as he realized he wanted to catch a glimpse of the intruder in the distance. He did not. Instead, he shook his head, laughed at himself, slid into his sleek black car, and headed for home.

Sleep did not come easily to Reno as he lay in his darkened bedroom listening to the light traffic of Edge buzz by several floors below. Instead, each time he closed his eyes he saw flashes of red crossing through the darkness. Odd memories floated to the surface of his consciousness, waiting until he was just slipping off the edge of sleep to drag him back.

_ "It's not that I haven't thought about it, I just don't know who I can trust to take the company in the right direction. But, I should have years to think about it, right?" Rufus asked coyly, wrapping his arms around Reno's stomach from behind. His chin rested on the Turk's shoulder lazily. _  
_ "You should. That doesn't mean you do. We'll always have your back, but who can guarantee that will be enough with madmen like Sephiroth and Avalanche running around?"_  
_ "Neither party has long. I can feel it. They've turned on one another, you know. And when they finally meet, each will take the other out. I get exactly what I need, without any of the blood on my hands," Rufus explained, his voice low and dark, sending an involuntary chill through Reno. _  
_ "I just want to make sure you realize I'm not on duty right now. If someone comes in here, I'm not taking that bullet. Off the clock is off the clock," Reno joked. Rufus slid his arms away with a drastic nod. _  
_ "Of course I understand that. I was the one worried that you'd be expecting overtime pay for these visits," he shot back smoothly, crossing the large living room to an antique record player. "Baroque or Romantic tonight?" _  
_ "How about Grunge or Alternative?" Reno suggested, turning back toward the kitchen to hunt for leftovers. _  
_ As he walked the hallway toward the kitchen, his ears zeroed in on the sound of metal scraping against granite. The sound circled, as the metal dragged lightly against a surface in a swift rotation. It grew in volume as he approached the kitchen door, and he realized someone was spinning what sounded like a metal rod on the countertop. _  
_ He reached for his gun, but found it missing. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, preparing him for a fight. After a deep breath, he rounded the corner and stopped dead in his tracks. _  
_ Looking back at him from the counter, spinning his own EMR with a single brassy finger, sat Vincent Valentine. The red eyes burned into him._  
Reno bolted upright in his bed, legs twisted in gray sheets. He cursed, rubbing his eyes, and recognized his inability to sleep. Accepting the fact for what it was, he left the bedroom for the living room, and passed the night in front of mindless television programs.  
Though the night seemed to drag on, his eyes leaving the T.V. set for the shadowy corners of his apartment on a regular basis, the morning passed far too quickly once the sun rose. He dressed in too much of a rush to worry about wrinkles, or even lint-rolling. Tie-less, exhausted, and short-fused, he slinked out of his apartment and headed reluctantly back to Healin.

"So, the proposition of a Board of Executives has been officially accepted. The press conference is set for this evening." Tseng took a sip of coffee as he let the information settle over the Turks.  
"And you were okay with this?" Reno finally asked.  
"What would you have us do, Reno?" Tseng dared to indulge.  
"I wouldn't go public. You're sweeping Rufus' legs out from under him. He'll never get control back from those people," Reno exclaimed bitterly. Elena, sitting to Reno's right, rolled her eyes. Tseng, unsurprisingly, remained calm.  
"Rufus is incapacitated. He would want his executives to take over for him. Or should we let the company run into the ground?"  
"I'm just wondering why the public has to know about it. We haven't confirmed or denied anything about Rufus; why not let it stay that way until he can make his own statement?"  
The room fell silent and tense. Reno looked to his co-workers, who avoided eye-contact. Even Tseng took a long pause to reflect before finally meeting his flustered gaze. The words were written plainly on his face, causing Reno to rise from his chair.  
"How the hell can you sit here like fucking watchdogs for a man that you already have in the grave? What are you doing here? Just waiting? Killing time until your new master arrives? Gaia, you give up easily for calling yourselves Turks." His cheeks burned with anger at the revelation that his coworkers had mentally and emotionally abandoned their leader.  
"Reno, this is a temporary solution. He'll be back; we are simply bridging the gap," Tseng answered unconvincingly.  
With no argument left to make, Reno shook his head and headed for the door, steaming.  
"You don't need me here for this. I'll serve whoever gives the orders," he shot back dryly before exiting the building. Elena shivered.

He had not given any thought to the destination, but simply let his legs carry him. The realization did not strike until a drop of water landed on his hot cheek. The waterfall separated him from his anger for just long enough to acknowledge the sadness that had burrowed beneath. _He should see this. When he walks again. If he walks again...When he wakes up. If he wakes up..._ A rough shake of the head stopped the spiraling thoughts short.  
Reno distracted himself by recollecting his wild dreams from the previous night. The red eyes had somehow hooked into his memory, refusing to fade away, even in his exhaustion. As he stepped into the small cave behind the waterfall, he analyzed his dream further, trying to determine what kind of information a psychic might try to sell him. Perhaps one of the many street-corner gypsies might comment on the gunner's very intrusion. He had slipped into Reno's subconscious, that much Reno knew. But what of the dream itself? What of the intrusion into Rufus' home? What of spinning the EMR like a toy?  
Recalling the details of the brief dream made Reno long for the sleep he had lost. The cool ground appeared just as inviting as the day before. Walking out of the meeting meant he was off duty for the rest of the day, and a nap in the arms of Nature proved too difficult to refuse. He only briefly acknowledged a twinge of hope that his visitor might show up again before rolling his eyes at himself and lowering to the ground.

Sleep poured over Reno almost instantly and held him for an hour before reality began to tug at him. The cave was silent as he cracked open an eye and glanced around. His jaw lowered in a yawn. A quiet cough cut the yawn short, drawing his attention to the back corner of the cave. His heart sped slightly at the guest.

"You're back," Reno stated more than asked. Vincent nodded once.

"Aren't we both?"

"How long have you been there?"

"Long enough to conclude that I would never hire you."

The remark stung, and yet drew a smirk from Reno.

"I'm off the clock today. Didn't I tell you to stay away from the lodge?" he asked, risking pushing Vincent away, and internally cursing himself for it. Deep red eyes narrowed, tinted with amusement.

"Do you think me a threat? I can assure you, I have no interest in pulling that plug."

"There's no fucking plug," Reno spat back before he could stop himself. The tension that followed was one-sided as he beat himself up for the comment. In avoiding eye contact, Reno missed a twitch of Vincent's lips.

"My mistake."

"So, how come you hang out here? This your hideout or somethin'?" Reno asked, changing the topic quickly.

"From what might I be hiding?"

"I don't know what you do all day, now that you've 'saved the world.' Maybe you've made enemies. Maybe you're afraid of the city," Reno speculated, surprising himself with the sudden flow of possibilities. He continued, more darkly, "Maybe you're planning something else."

"I am drawn to waterfalls, it appears."  
Reno thought he knew a story about Vincent and a waterfall, but his memory kept it out of reach, giving his features a look of perplexion. Vincent exhaled heavily at the silence that answered him and walked toward the far exit of the cave.  
"Wait," Reno called after, again surprising himself.  
The answer was delivered in a level and factual tone. "No." And wait he did not. Reno ran after him.  
"Well, do you need a ride? Where are you going?"  
Vincent shook his head without looking back.  
"Do you want to get a drink?"  
That stopped him short, though he kept his back turned.  
"Excuse me?"  
"I mean, I don't know what you're doing today, but...I gotta get away from those people, and I know a place in Edge..." As Reno spoke, his voice weakened, eventually sinking back down his throat into a choked sigh. His cheeks burned, but he stood still, waiting for a definitive answer. "We don't have to be enemies anymore, right?" he joked, attempting to break the icy silence. For a painfully long moment, he failed. Then, red eyes peered over a red-clad shoulder.  
"Fine."  
"The bar at the south end of new construction. Been there?"  
"No."  
Immediately, he regretted inviting the virtual stranger to his favorite bar, and yet he wanted to celebrate the fact that Vincent had agreed to join him.


	3. Chapter 3

In the close quarters of the black sports car, Vincent looked out of place. Reno noticed more than once that his left hand never moved, the sun glittering off of the brassy metal. An urge to touch the device flooded Reno, and he found himself giving as much attention to Vincent's hand as the road ahead of them. The joints came together perfectly, offering the fingers beneath unlimited movement with maximum protection. He realized for the first time, glancing at the razor sharp fingertips, that the piece was a weapon as much as it was armor, and imagined it making violent contact with an enemy, tearing a body to shreds. The thought made him shiver, and drove his attention back to the road.  
"I had a place in Midgar, surprisingly close to HQ. 'Asphalt,' it was called. Sounds like a biker bar, but, surprisingly, no. All kinds of people from all over the city gathered there to essentially...leave each other alone."  
From the corner of his eye, he noticed Vincent turn his head just slightly from the window.  
"You just knew when to talk and when to keep quiet. Everyone understood one another. The Turks had a table there that had been passed on for God-knows how long. Shinra people had carved into it throughout the years. I had heard that, though the building was essentially leveled, some of the furniture survived- including that table. What's that say about us?"

Vincent did not answer.

"It took months of exploring to find another place like that...after..."

Vincent sighed a single laugh almost silently.  
"What's funny?"  
"I had a place like that of my own once."  
Reno raised his eyebrows, failing to picture Vincent at a bar. He quickly pondered how different the quiet man might have looked in his youth.  
"The job has not changed much in thirty years. Still using liquor as a timecard."  
"Not everyone, really."  
"Never everyone. Only those that come in with a conscience."  
Reno had no witty reply to the statement.

"Anyway, after several places that made me sorry for the state of Edge, I found heaven again, through these doors," Reno explained, pulling a heavy silver door open and allowing Vincent to step into the building first. His eyes adjusted to the darkness quickly, habitually scanning the room for exits.  
"'Respite.' Painfully appropriate. We sit back here," he said quickly, leading Vincent to the back corner of the bar. Trip hop played on intentionally fuzzy overhead speakers. In the middle of the day, the building was fairly empty, save for an assortment of tired businessmen scattered throughout lonely tables.  
Reno slid easily into a corner booth of smooth black upholstery. The wooden table had names and phrases carved into its surface, over which a glossy lacquer had been applied, preserving the graffiti.  
"When I first walked into this place...I just knew the table had made it here. It belonged here."  
The air was surprisingly crisp for a bar. A young waitress in a long-sleeved black T-shirt approached the table. Reno grinned up at her and held up two fingers. She nodded once and spun to leave as quickly as she had approached.  
"So...what was it like? To be there, up close, watching Sephiroth go down?"  
Vincent remained quiet for a long moment, eyeing Reno cautiously.  
"It was..."  
Reno unconsciously leaned forward.  
"...cold."  
Blue eyes widened, then narrowed in suspicion. "Cold?! What the hell does that mean?"  
"The crater was easily below freezing. No one spoke. The plan had simply been...understood."  
"Gods, it must have felt amazing to be done with him," Reno thought aloud, before sipping his potent concoction.  
"For some of them. For Cid, Yuffie. Reeve, I'm sure. The relief was instantaneous. Others had perhaps suffered too great a loss to feel much relief."  
"Yeah..." Reno thought about his own near-loss of Tseng, which only reminded him of how hard Tseng had taken the death of the Aeris. He could not meet the red eyes across the table when he asked, "Which side of that line did you fall on?"  
He waited patiently for an answer that did not come. The silence stifled Reno, causing him to shift uncomfortably and raise his eyes to Vincent. The darker man appeared close to amused, staring down at the marks on the table.  
"How long has this table been around?" he asked lowly, a smirk threatening his lips.  
"A long time. Couple decades, maybe," Reno answered, allowing his prior question to float away unaddressed. A metallic finger tapped a monogram carved into the top of the table. Reno craned his neck to read the letters. A full smile broke out on his face.  
"Wooow..." he drawled, shaking his head slowly, "the fuckin' odds..."  
The quiet that followed was suddenly more comfortable.

"Must've been strange, fighting the blue suits with Strife...I mean, as far as I'm concerned, once you're in, you never really leave. Shinra has a way of getting in your blood."  
Vincent slid his empty glass toward the center of the table. "Suppose I had plenty of other things in my blood to dilute it."  
Reno did not catch the depth of the quip. "Now that things are...settled...would you consider going back? I mean, the company would take care of you for the rest of your life."  
Vincent's teeth bared in a quick flash of a smile before he shook his head. "Of that, I have my doubts."  
"What's that supposed to mean? You'd probably have to go through training again, but god knows you could handle it. Doubt they'd send you out much. Maybe a cushy office job would suit you. Pay and benefits the likes of which you won't see elsewhere."  
"You're solving a nonexistent problem."  
"You're working?" Reno asked, leaning slightly across the table. Vincent shook his head. "Well, what are you doing for money?"  
"I was no fool with my money when I was your age. Interest in Wutai banks has been kind to me."  
"Holy shit...you're loaded!" Reno exclaimed, causing a few heads to turn briefly toward their table. "Where do you live? Probably some penthouse on the North side."  
"I travel."  
"Why wouldn't you? Suite to suite, casino to casino. What a life," Reno mused, leaning his head back in wonder.  
"Yes...spot on..." Vincent mocked quietly.  
"No car, though? How the hell do you get around?" Reno asked boldly. His brow furrowed slightly at the sight of Vincent suppressing a smirk.  
"What's funny?" he asked for the second time.  
"Sitting at this table, having this conversation. I appreciate the drinks, and the transportation. I have an appointment." With that, Vincent swiftly stood and moved toward the front door. Reno, caught completely off-guard by the motion, rushed to toss two bills onto the table in order to follow him. By the time the paper hit the wood, the front door had swung closed behind Vincent.  
The hazy sunlight nearly blinded Reno as he threw himself out onto the sidewalk. At the end of the workday, the streets were filled, and the redhead stood still as crowds moved around him. His head shook involuntarily, and a grin overtook his features.  
"Fuckin' weirdo," he muttered, no heat behind the words.


	4. Chapter 4

"I guess you're relying on your reputation as the loveable hothead to save your ass from that outburst," Rude assumed, referring to the meeting one day before. Reno nodded, closing the door to the lodge behind him. He took off his jacket and tossed it haphazardly onto a wall hook.

"I always do. They gonna fire me? Let 'em try."

"This, of course, your way of affirming our undying love for your sarcasm and questionable work ethic," Rude replied coolly.

"Call me what you want, but don't question my work ethic. Pretty or no, I get the job done, and you all know it," Reno shot back, easily defending his reputation.

"Point is, you got to get control of your emotions. That board of execs walks in here and sees you fired up, you're at a desk for a year."

Reno's eyes lowered to the chair in which Rude had sat for the previous six hours. "Go home."

Rude raised his palms in acceptance, leaving the building without another word. Reno ran a hand through his hair and pulled the uncomfortable chair closer to the side of the bed. Upon sitting, he leaned forward, intently looking over Rufus' face for any changes. The act had become routine, checking for any lines to signal movement or expression while he was away. Blond strands had characteristically fallen forward onto Rufus' right eyelid. With a heavy sigh and gentle touch, Reno moved it away.

"You don't want come back now?" he asked in vain. "Don't you know what they're doing to your company?"

He sat for the next hour, allowing himself to delve into unspoken fears. His jaw clenched more than once, his heart finding a home in his throat.

"If they replace you...why wouldn't they replace us? A complete overhaul of the company to present a bright new face to the world. Gain their trust back. Prove Shinra isn't so scary anymore..." he drawled lowly, more to himself than to Rufus. "With trust comes money, and who trusts a Turk but those who are paying for his services? And what honest company needs hired guns?" A wry smile crossed his features; his eyes darkened as he looked back to Rufus.

"You're ending our era," he accused. He attempted anger, but his heart was not in it.

As he lowered his head into his hands, he caught a slight movement from the corner of his eye. He perked up quickly, staring intently at Rufus' hand, waiting. Several seconds passed before it happened again: Rufus' index finger twitched, bending slightly at the knuckle. It had happened the same way the few precious times Rufus had awakened before. Reno smiled at this first sign of coming consciousness. He waited at the edge of his chair, watching Rufus' right eyelid flutter several times. Soon enough, it slowly opened, took in the empty room, and settled on the redhead. His voice was a dry whisper, but did not lack the power needed for the first words.

"Fuck you."

Reno smiled, leaning back slightly. "You heard that, huh? Good. It worked." He retrieved the glass of water from the white end table, holding the long straw up to Rufus' dry lips. Rufus swallowed several mouthfuls of water before nodding slightly in appreciation.

"What are they doing to the company?"

Reno's smile faded as he broke his eye contact.

"Tell me."

"Board of executives. Is this really what you want to talk about? I mean...god. You just woke up," Reno protested, attempting to prevent the topic from progressing. Rufus had none of it.

"A board is not a bad thing, necessarily. Someone has to run things while I..." the words went unsaid.

Reno thought as carefully as possible about his next words. "They wanted to make a public announcement about Shinra changing hands. Temporarily, of course."

Rufus squared his jaw at this information. "When?" he asked coolly.

"...Last night," Reno reluctantly answered.

"Goddammit," Rufus swore, his voice a harsh whisper once again.

They sat silently, processing the information together. Only one of them scoured his brain for some solution. Only one took the decision as a blow from which he would likely not recover. Reno was surprised to discover it was him.

"On we go, then," Rufus said eventually, in quiet acceptance. Reno's eyes widened. He wanted to jump to his feet, throw his chair across the room, shake Rufus by his shoulders. Instead, he simply stared into the other's face.

"On we go," he agreed. The words pained him.

"What day is it?" Rufus asked, looking out the window.

"The 26th. It's been a week since your last...appearance. You hadn't been staying with us for much more than an hour. Think you'll make this an extended stay?"

"I'll make a true effort. How poetic to come back to life the day after my company's death..." The sarcasm stung Reno.

"It's temporary."

Rufus smirked. The expression chilled the already crisp room. "A temporary death. Someday, we'll wake up and it will all be behind us. We won't know what to do with our power once we have it back. Maybe...we'll be stronger than ever. What an inviting notion."

Reno hummed his agreement and leaned back in his chair once more, his eyes thoughtlessly staring out the large window at the misty waterfall in the distance.


	5. Chapter 5

"You're a sight for sore eyes," Reno murmured to Tseng as he removed his heavy black coat in the foyer of the Lodge.

"He's awake," Tseng surmised, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't think he's going anywhere this time. Hope you brought coffee. He's planning his triumphant return." As he spoke, Reno pulled on black wool coat of his own and headed for the door through which Tseng had entered. "And you wonder why I opposed the Board...Enjoy."

"Watch it," Tseng half-heartedly warned, sternly pointing, then waving to Reno. As Reno exited the building, he heard Rufus greet Tseng quickly before resuming his own talk of business. The sound of the door latching behind him calmed Reno like never before. He closed his eyes and leaned heavily against the cool metallic wall. As he gathered his thoughts, he focused on the one relaxing element of his workplace and let his ears zero in on its call: the waterfall.  
Little waited for him at home, he figured. No companions relied on him for dinner; no laundry could not continue to wait. He rolled his shoulders to release tension, and took off once more for the water.  
The small cave welcomed him as coolly as ever, the tall grass at its entrance reaching to touch his legs in greeting. As his boot hit the stone, his pulse quickened. Blue eyes narrowed, quickly scanning the area. Metal clinked softly against itself and Reno zeroed in on the sound. In the farthest, darkest corner of the cave lay Vincent on his left side, his red cape splayed around him on ground as a menacing aura.  
Reno rushed toward him, dropping speedily to his knees and allowing his well-trained instincts to take over. Vincent had removed his long black glove, and consequently covered the skin beneath with dark blood. It had come from his side, and still dropped slowly from his soaked shirt.  
"What the hell happened to you?" Reno asked. He did not wait for an answer before moving the blood-stained arm to meet its metallic counterpart on the ground in front of Vincent's face. Red eyes distantly stared at the golden gauntlet's pointed fingertips, the mind behind them undoubtedly far from its body.  
Reno attempted to raise the fabric covering the injury, but found it too tightly tucked into the belted pants to move without hurting Vincent more. He gritted his teeth and rolled Vincent onto his back, wincing at the rush of air that came past pale lips at the movement.  
"Sorry, man, but you're about learn a valuable lesson in battle attire. Two belts? That's necessary? This is why I don't tuck shit in..." Reno rambled, more to keep his own head straight than to offer any comic relief to Vincent. His fingers nimbly unbuckled the leather straps, and quickly unzipped the fly. Clenching his jaw in anticipation, he slid the leather downward, and with it, the tight black garment beneath. His neck tensed as he slowly raised the material of Vincent's shirt, revealing several long gashes in his side. Some appeared to be bites, while others clearly resembled the shape of four claws tearing open the flesh. Pulling the fabric from the wounds caused them to freshly run with blood that seemed alarmingly warm.  
"What happened? Where's your materia? Why didn't you heal yourself?" Reno asked, grabbing the thick material of the cape from the ground and folding it twice before laying it over the wicked wounds and leaning his body weight onto Vincent's side.  
"Thieves in the ruins...  
"Midgar? Why the hell were you down there? And how did you get overtaken by them?"  
"Overtaken...You assume I left them alive."  
When an average man might have shuddered, Reno simply shook his head.

"The lodge has supplies. I might be able to...put you back together," he offered, cautiously removing the red fabric to take another look at the wounds. Vincent said nothing, but furrowed his brow slightly. Reno realized his predicament: he did not want the help, but knew he needed it. Without another word, he grabbed Vincent's wrist and placed his hand over the dampening cape. Assured that Vincent would apply his own pressure, Reno took off.

.

Adrenaline propelled him up the long flight of stairs and quickly through the heavy front door. Before he could reach the supply room opposite Rufus's makeshift bedroom, Tseng stepped out into the main sitting room defensively. His tense shoulders relaxed, but his face did not.

"Feel free to knock before you barge in like a madman. Or, perhaps, just slow down," he chastised.

"Sorry, boss. I just needed to borrow..." Words failed him, as he had not prepared a cover. Tseng tilted his head. As seconds slipped by in tense silence, he straightened his neck and shook his head in disapproving dismissal.

"Whatever you're _borrowing_, just take it and go. Rufus has decided to start moving around, and I can't be babysitting you both..." he explained under his breath as he walked back toward the room.

Eyes wide in surprise, Reno ran to supply room and searched frantically for potions. He swore and grimaced upon realizing the lodge used only traditional means of healing, and angrily filled his pockets with bandages, antiseptics, and a small kit that sent chills down his spine.

.

The cave seemed eerily quiet when Reno re-entered it, causing anticipatory adrenaline to again course through his veins. He trotted back to Vincent and shook his head upon finding the wounded man lying completely still with his eyes closed. The sharp angles of the gunner's face had softened in what Reno assumed was resolve. Refusing to share in the defeat, Reno violently grabbed the other's unprotected wrist and confirmed that a heart was still beating. He took three deep breaths and emptied his pockets, rolling the tension from his shoulders.

Half an hour passed, and Reno applied the last strip of white medical tape over one of a series of bandages. He sat back on his heels and took a long look at Vincent's face. It had not changed through the entire process of cleaning, stitching, and bandaging his side.

"Vincent..." he tested, quietly calling the man back to the world of the living. He tugged Vincent's shirt back down over the bandages. As his fingers grazed the fair skin of his side, Reno jerked his hand away as if the contact had burned him.

"Gods, Valentine. You're on fire..." A new concern had crept into the redhead's voice as he realized how badly he simply wanted to go home. "What the hell do I do with you?"

His mind raced with options, none of which he found acceptable. One voice demanded that the body be left where he found it, no worse for the wear. Another suggested that he make a phone call to the former thorn in his side. In the end, though, the loudest cries for logic lost out to the most hushed whisper of curiosity.

As Reno struggled to carry Vincent out of the cave and toward the small parking lot, he failed to feel the gaze of an icy blue eye.

.

The door to the dark apartment swung closed under the impact of Reno's boot. Exhausted, he drew a deep breath and began walking backward, holding Vincent under his arms and letting his long legs drag behind across the slick wood floor. He reached the master bedroom and hit the light switch on the wall, illuminating a slightly cluttered room and an unmade king bed. As he entered the room, he caught a glimpse of his reflection: haggard, sweating with exertion, dragging the Turks' own man of myth, dark hair spilling across his chest as his head bobbed lifelessly in transport. The image struck a certain nerve in Reno, and he began laughing. Weakened by his own laughter, he struggled to reach the side of the bed, tripping over his own feet, and igniting an even greater laughing spell. As gently as possible, he lowered Vincent to the floor and lay down by his head, allowing the ridiculousness of the situation to settle over him.  
"The world really has ended," he sighed, shaking his head in amusement.

Evening fell over Edge, and the sun had begun to slip beneath the horizon, casting the city in a warm, reddish glow. Reno had passed out on his couch three hours before, and sleep had welcomed him warmly. Now, however, a single ray of evening sunlight fell directly upon his closed eyelids, frustrating him back into consciousness. He hazily glanced at his watch and smiled softly in his tired stupor, glad to have still have so much time away from the lodge. As he closed his eyes again, his brain refused to let him relax. He felt urged to look at his watch again, but resisted it in favor of maintaining the warmth of crossed arms. The notion persisted. After three minutes of suppressing the pointless compulsion, he cracked his eyes open again and peeked at his watch. The time was not what had pricked his interest. His senses had been requesting that he notice the dried blood covering his sleeve.

"Holy shit!" He jolted upright, planting his feet firmly on the cool floor, and eyed the closed bedroom door across the apartment.  
"Something wrong?" The low voice came from the kitchen. Reno turned his head to find Vincent sitting at his bar-height kitchen table with a glass of water in front of him. The disheveled redhead cocked his head slightly as if to say,_ You tell me._ Vincent looked down at his glass. "Bold of you, to bring me here." The words were somehow uninflected.  
"Should I have left you?" Reno asked, making his way to the kitchen. He eyed Vincent's new attire: a black T shirt that fit him tighter than its owner, and black athletic pants that hardly matched the leather boots underneath. Reno smirked at the choice. "You could have died. You help yourself to my belongings...maybe I should have let it happen." The joke died on his lips, confirmed by Vincent's cryptic response.  
"Maybe so."  
"I found an elixer, just an old plain one, but I tried it anyway. You were on fire, I thought I was preventing an infection. It seems to have brought you back, huh?" His eyes wandered as he talked, settling on the most interesting aspect of the other man's appearance: his left arm. Unprotected, it rested on the table, his long, slender fingers bent slightly. Two thick scars ran the length of his forearm. He could clearly see several blue veins through the translucent skin of the other's wrist.  
"Sorry about the sutures. I haven't done that in the field before. Or off the field. Ever. They probably look like a half-assed attempt to help."  
"I suppose I don't know any better."  
Had Reno been more awake, the words would have chilled him. As it was, his senses had to struggle through his exhaustion.  
"Hungry?"  
While the cryptic undertow to Vincent's words went unnoticed, his wry smirk at the question did not.


	6. Chapter 6

"I'm curious...what was your first impression of the rag-tag team?" Reno asked, mindlessly digging through a white takeout box with cheap chopsticks. Vincent did not bother with the gimmicky utensils, and instead speared a comically obscure piece of meat with his equally cheap fork. He held it in front of his eyes, inspecting it, while he thought the question over.

"It was a long time ago," he initially answered. Reno slouched, rejecting the answer.

"I did not care, I suppose. They offered a chance at Hojo. I took it."  
Reno arched his eyebrow skeptically. "You thought they could do it? You never suspected you were walking into the jaws of death? Shinra's one thing, but when Sephiroth got involved...I mean, I think we all had our doubts."

"You doubted your company? Fascinating," Vincent quipped dryly.

"If you wanted Hojo so badly, why not just come to Midgar yourself? Why wait for a bunch of rebels, who already had prices on their heads, mind you, to accompany you?"

Vincent chewed slowly, digesting the question. Finally, he answered, "Perhaps theirs was a cause I believed in. I'd say I chose the right side, wouldn't you?"

The question had bite. They ate in silence for several minutes before Reno focused on Vincent once again.

"Why were you in the ruins?"

"Why have you taken such an interest in my affairs?" Vincent retorted quickly.

Reno shook his head coolly, but felt his ears begin to burn. The question had no clear answer. He broke eye contact quickly, staring too intently into his box of noodles, and faking a nonchalant laugh. "I'm not, er, haven't. I guess thinking about you is more interesting than thinking about work." He missed the black eyebrows raise.

"You think about me?" Vincent asked, easily securing the upper hand in a suddenly fascinating conversation.

"Talk. I said 'talking about you,'" the redhead corrected quickly, internally swearing up a storm.

Vincent leaned back in his chair, watching a Turk silently will himself to die. Finally, he relented. "Well, I can assure you, I am not interesting."

"Anything is interesting after enough time in that lodge. Enough weeks staring at the face of death in a building devoid of any color whatsoever...it's sickening in there after a while."

"You sought refuge behind the waterfall and I interfered."

"Good thing. I might have let you die had I not known you were made of money," Reno kidded.

"Ah, you're expecting payment. I see. This is not hospitality at all; it's a hostage situation."

Reno widened his eyes at the joke, surprised that it came from one of the most stoic men he had ever met. "You bring up an interesting point, though. Why did you go to Edge with me? To the bar? And why did you really leave so abruptly?"

"Nostalgia."

He jutted his chin at the blunt answer, watching Vincent half-heartedly pick at a loose thread on his borrowed pants.

"Bullshit. What's nostalgic about me? We never worked together."

Red eyes raised to catch his gaze. "Perhaps you seemed more interesting than my plans for the day."

The moment their eyes met, a single thought flooded Reno's mind, violently hijacking his train of thought. He tried to suppress it, helplessly reasoning with himself as the words pushed past his logic and fell clumsily from his lips.

"I'm lonely. I mean, I work with people for a living, and yet...I have never felt so alone in my life." His fingers stretched from his palm as though a physical attempt to pull the words back. His neck flamed underneath his collar as he simply closed his eyes, waiting for his heart to stop. The silence that followed became increasingly painful with each second that passed.

"Well, okay, I'm officially a crazy person." His hands flew wildly in the air in front of his face. "I don't know where the hell _that_ came from. Wow. Feel free to take the clothes as you flee. I won't tell anyone you were here," he rambled quickly, standing and collecting takeout containers and napkins in a rush of humiliation.

Vincent sat back, seemingly unfazed. Reno chewed the inside of his cheek in frustration. "You just plan to drag this out? Sweet," he spat, growing angry. He stopped in the middle of the kitchen to watch Vincent form a thought. His lips parted as he stared ahead into the living room.

"So, you have articulated the very feeling that haunts everyone who wears the suit. Surrounded by eyes that never truly see you. It's in the job description, to be a charming, forgettable face. To hold _everyone_ at a distance." Slowly, he turned his head to meet Reno's gaze again. "You have a bit of humanity left, that's all."

"Yeah, this," he waved his hand back and forth in the air, signaling the entire afternoon's events, "is _also_ missing from the playbook." He slammed closed the lid to his stainless trash can, muttering, "The fuck am I doing?"

"I'll go," Vincent said, standing slowly to account for his wound. His hand instinctively hovered over the hidden bandages.

"Your clothes..." Reno half-heartedly protested.

"It was not a suggestion."

The words caused Reno to pull his head back and give a single nod. A headache grew behind his eyes. He did not watch Vincent disappear into the master bedroom, but instead peeled off his own shirt and slinked the fifteen steps back to his couch. He collapsed onto his back, throwing one arm over his eyes. His head did not raise when the front door latched closed.

.

"You're up. Wow. Look at that."

Rufus tilted his head and silently watched Reno hang his coat on the rack.

"Have you even slept?" Reno asked, noting Rufus' clear eyes at the early hour. He missed the blond eyebrow arch.

"Have you?"

"Like a baby. It was beautiful. The sun hadn't even set, and I was _out._ What's on the agenda for today?" he asked, sitting in the bedside chair.

"You get to leave the lodge. I want you to check out some activity that's been reported near the old building."

"The ruins? What's been reported?" A nearly-indiscernible knot formed in his stomach.

"I don't know, some criminals attacking our people out there. I have teams trying to salvage parts of HQ: lab equipment, files, computers. The job seems a bit pointless if those materials are being saved only to fall into the hands of potential enemies. They do not seem organized, so I doubt this is any vendetta. Just addicts looking for money, probably. I want to know exactly what's happening out there, and I want it taken care of. If that bullshit spreads into Edge, people will lose faith in us quickly. We're on thin enough ice as it is with the public."

Reno turned his neck, enjoying both the cracks that followed and the disgust on Rufus' face. "So, does Tseng have a full briefing, or will that-"

"No," Rufus interrupted quickly. "He does not. You've heard all you need. Tseng is not involved in this. You will report to me, and me alone."

"I'm on my own in this?" he questioned. Backup was almost always provided for jobs as open as these. One ran a great risk of getting in over his head when going in blind, as Reno was being asked to do.

"You can handle it. I trust you can take care of this without drawing more resources than necessary. I don't want the others distracted from their current projects." A quick narrowing of cold blue eyes told Reno to drop the subject.

"You got it. So...today, then?"

Rufus tilted his head again. "A mere civilian doesn't exactly need the protection of the Turks, does he?" The reference to his demotion thickened the air, and Reno let his lips curl upward at the notion of leaving the room so quickly after he'd arrived.

The grin faded as he slammed closed the door to his car. He had batted this job around since it left Rufus's lips, trying to make sense of it. It had crept under his skin somehow, upsetting his cool demeanor in a matter of minutes. He closed his eyes to clear the uneasiness away. Instead, his memory turned on him, flashing images of vibrant blood pooled on a cold stone floor. Shaky hands brought torn skin together, piercing it over and over again in an unskilled attempt to help.

"Goddamn it," he swore, jolting himself back to the world. No deep breaths could calm his nerves.

.

Meteorfall had broken Midgar to pieces, and no one had bothered to put them back together. Instead, skyscrapers stood at dangerous angles, casting threatening shadows over an already hazy city. The outpour of lifestream had inspired a generous painting of green foliage over many of the buildings' exteriors. Only vines dared to climb battered buildings anymore: the minor influx of wildlife stuck to the cracked streets. A simultaneously cool and unwelcoming fog settled over the city as a warning to outsiders that, in Midgar, one could disappear completely. It joined forces with the crumbled pavement to prevent most vehicles from entering the heart of the city.

Reno remotely locked his car, setting the alarm twice. Four blocks away stood the remains of the old Shinra HQ, not that he could see the ruin through the haze. He counted three blocks before he felt his shoulders tighten and reached smoothly for the pistol in his hidden holster.

"You lost?" a gravelly voice asked from only a few feet behind. Reno turned to face a short, stocky man in notably mismatched clothing. _Stolen from the bodies of your victims?_ Reno pondered, his fingers tightening and loosening on the grip of his gun.

"Not at all. These are my old stomping grounds. Or don't you recognize the new uniforms?" he asked, running his left hand down his side to show off his jacket.

"_Old_ stomping grounds. You got no authority here now. Meteorfall ran you all off," he countered, straightening his neck. "You'd be wise to get back in that flashy car and leave this place be. I would hate to get that nice black suit dirty."

The threat was made early, which Reno appreciated.

"Fair enough. I'm going to ask one question before I go."

Gray eyes narrowed and Reno watched as a fine layer of dirt packed between the lines around the other's eyes.

"What, exactly, is going on at the old Shinra building?"

"You're askin' the wrong man. Now go."

Reno cracked a smile that few of his victims ever saw twice.

"That little white badge pokin' out of your pocket says I'm asking exactly the right man. Pick that up yourself, or did you have to buy it?"

At this, he began counting. Two sets of footsteps announced themselves behind him. One set came up on his left, one on his right. Two equally grimy men flanked the man in front of him, towering several inches above him and wielding metal bats.

"Seven of you? And how many snipers?"

A minute flash in his opponent's eyes caused his smile to widen.

"Oh, you didn't think about that. Good, I can relax. I thought we were going to have a problem."

A beastly snarl caught his ear, sending a wave of adrenaline through his veins. He turned to his right to watch a large, sandy-colored Nibel wolf emerge from an alley.

He rolled his shoulders, dislodged his EMR with his left hand, and under his breath, muttered, "What luck."

One block away, a guardian watched through a scope.

The Turk easily downed the men that had approached his back, as blind defense had always been a favorite skill to practice during his mandatory training hours. He desperately wanted to spare the man he thought of, humorously, as the leader, but his incessant attacks pushed that goal further and further from reach. Thirty seconds passed, warding off the leader while downing his cohorts, before he slipped. Turning his back on the stocky man one moment too long, his knees were kicked out from beneath him. A thick arm reached strongly around his neck and pulled his back against a low chest. He wrestled the man he quickly realized was a bundle of muscle until the coolness of a blade touched his neck. The curse was barely audible, as it had not been a signal of forfeit, but merely of inconvenience.

Directly in front of him, the wolf awaited its command, baring its massive teeth in anticipation.

"You_ could_ have avoided this. You could've walked off into the fuckin' sunset, you dipshit. Now, though, I'm going to release that animal on you and watch it tear you to shreds. It will tear you open and eat you alive. It's too quick to let you die first. Instead, you will lie on your dear 'old stomping ground' and watch it eat your insides for a bit before you finally pass out. By the time it's done, there will be nothing left for the smarter Turks to find."

"Now, the problem with these dramatic speeches is this: While you were jackjawing, I was ever-so-slowly reaching-" a bullet blew through the man's foot before he finished his thought, "for my secondary."

The man howled and fell backward, slicing the thin skin of Reno's neck, but failing to apply much pressure. Reno quickly turned and shot the last man approaching from the rear alley and, just as quickly, turned back toward the wildly-approaching animal. It lept forward, saliva dripping from its razor teeth. As it sprung toward Reno's unprepared body, the air cracked around him with a deafening gunshot. The wolf barely let out a whimper as its flight pattern altered ninety degrees, sending it, lifeless, to the street several feet away.

"The fuck?!" the thug cried from the ground, propping himself up on his elbows.

"Now," Reno said, coolly turning back toward his target, hiding the tremor of his hands by shoving them into his pockets, "if you promise to cooperate, I can get you to Edge and get that foot taken care of. Criminal though you are, you still have your rights as a citizen of Midgar. Unless, of course, you don't want to play along. Then, I can probably amuse myself for a few hours with my weapon-of-choice."

"Alright. Alright...we heard rumors that some equipment and shit was left in the HQ that could be worth some money. So, we been 'cleanin' the place up,'" he admitted vaguely.

"What's the shit? Equipment and what _shit_, exactly? That broken equipment won't get ten percent of its original worth."

A long silence prompted Reno to callously nudge the severely wounded foot of the unarmed man.

"GODDAMMIT! FINE! Files, you son of a bitch. Records of employees, missions, all the standard HR shit. And..." he shook his head, watching blood pool around his wounded limb, "...the science department, in particular. People are _buying_ that crap. A lot of shit went down in that place, man. And people want to know. Not just that news-headlines shit, either. People want the details. The names, the procedures, everything."

"Why are you so well-armed for a bunch of..._salesmen_?"

He chewed his bottom lip before he answered, "We been runnin' into some trouble lately. Someone else has been trying to get at some of those files, hurting our guys. Killed one of 'em. Slowing our progress."

"Your _progress_ is interfering with Shinra's. You're trespassing on Shinra grounds, _stealing_ property that belongs to us, hurting _our_ people. You think you can get away with that?"

"We have been for some time. So..."

"So. Anything else I should know?" Reno asked, finally removing his hands from his pockets.

"I'm allergic to morphine. I think I'm going to pass out before I get to Edge. Don't let them give me morphine."

Reno dropped his head in an airy laugh. "'Dipshit,' right? Irony is rarely so beautiful."

His head raised with his hand, and the gun within. As he pulled his finger back, the grounded man's eyes narrowed on something behind the Turk. No longer focusing on Reno, he died wide-eyed. Reno turned, holstering his weapon, and found nothing but an abandoned cityscape staring back at him. He touched his hand to his neck and winced at the sting of the wound. A quick cast of a basic Cure stopped the bleeding, though the discomfort remained.

The next five minutes consisted of rifling through pockets, picking up wallets and what weapons he could carry. As he straightened his back, he took a long look into the haze which had produced the bullet that killed the wolf. The emptiness chilled him, and he took off for his car.


	7. Chapter 7

Reno knew he would not be expected back at Healin for another several hours. The opportunity to visit his new favorite pub presented itself easily. He parked in the back lot of Respite, armed his car, and walked in through the back door. A wave of relief rushed over him in the form of his first drink. A waitress set a newspaper in front of him when she brought his second glass.

"Liquid breakfast?" she asked, pushing her black hair over her shoulder. He smiled wryly up at her.

"The only kind to have. It's a beautiful thing that you're open round the clock."

"Some people just need a dark, warm cave to crawl into, no matter the time of day." She leaned suggestively over the table to slide his drink toward him. "I can respect that sort of thing."

He grinned and took the drink out of her reach, letting silence fill the space between them. She arched an eyebrow once and sauntered away. He watched her closely as she left his table for another. The high backs of the booths allowed him only to see the black hair of her next prey several tables away. She offered a throaty laugh and a suggestive stance that Reno assumed fell equally flat by the indignant manner in which she quickly walked away.

Eventually, Reno removed the handful of wallets he had collected from his pockets and placed them on the table. He recognized none of the names, and chalked the whole operation up to criminal greed. Simultaneously satisfied and disappointed with his simple conclusion, he leaned his head back against the booth and closed his eyes.

"Late start or early finish?"

The voice inspired Reno only to crack an eyelid in its direction. Yet, upon seeing Vincent standing over his table, he dropped his feigned disinterest and sat up straight.

"Neither, technically."

"I was right. I would never hire you."

Reno flashed his eyebrows upward and nodded toward the seat opposite him.

"Sit down." Half expecting the command to fail, he was surprised when Vincent slid into the seat and rested his hands on the table, golden fingers intertwining with black-gloved. "Been anywhere interesting this morning?" he asked coolly.

"No. Where I've been has yet to become...interesting."

"But how about that fog, huh?" Reno toyed, pushing Vincent to admit his presence at the ruins.

"The sun was out when I came in. Are you starting a collection?" he quickly shifted topics, picking up a black wallet and thumbing through it. At this, the redhead grinned and shook his head.

"I know a lot of good shots. I don't know of many rifles that crack the atmosphere." Red eyes stared blankly back at him, causing him to shift in his seat. "What were you doing there?"

"You've coaxed it out of me already...nothing interesting."

The devious avoidance of the topic crept under Reno's skin, the comfortable fog of his two drinks giving way to a more professional state of mind.

"You don't want to talk. How...unsurprising."

"You asked me to sit."

"You approached me. Why?" The air seemed to stiffen with Vincent's neck. He broke eye contact to watch the tabletop.

"I suppose I wanted you to know that I appreciate what you did for me."

Reno looked away then, too.

"But we're even."

This drew him back. "Excuse me?"

"That wolf had you."

Reno's left hand slammed the table as his right pointed in Vincent's face. "Bullshit! You took that shot out from under me! Bullshit!"

Vincent cracked a smirk and leaned back casually against the seatback, laughing once.

"I'm serious! I was fine. I had no trouble with these," he protested, waving his hand over the scoured wallets. "My training is a little more up-to-date than yours. I don't think you want to debate this."

Friendly tension rose as they stared each other down.

"Can I buy you a drink to thank you for your delusional favor?" Reno asked, surprising Vincent out of his intense focus. Before he could answer, Reno raised two fingers to the familiar waitress. Seconds later, two stout shot glasses stood before each man.

"She likes to surprise me," the Turk explained, raising his glass and barely eyeing the dark liquor before downing it in a single swallow. His new companion did the same, turning his head from the table afterward.

"Not your style?" Reno asked, laughing at the reaction.

"You're willing to let that poison speak for you?"

"Ha! Here I thought that dull bitterness would suit you," he shot back.

One black eyebrow arched beneath a signature red band. Reno saw indignation, but not the plan that was forming behind those red eyes. The waitress approached for the empty glasses, and the darker man quietly rattled off an elaborate order. She smiled, disappeared, and returned quickly with two similar glasses, this time filled with clear liquid. Reno reached for his, but Vincent stopped him, raising his hand.

"Was this your...timecard?"

Vincent smirked again, nodding once and concentrating on the glasses. Upon noticing the green glow of his palm, Reno leaned forward in anticipation and watched as his fingers snapped and the clear pools ignited. Thin wisps of blue flame rose from each glass, dancing in the air between them.

"Tears of Shiva," Reno announced, realizing what had been offered to him.

They nodded once toward one another and downed the shots quickly. Reno shivered, rolling his shoulders as he set his glass down. Vincent simply took a deep breath through his nose.

"So, when you're thinking about me, you think of dull bitterness." The accusation hit Reno with the sting of embarrassment. He recovered quickly, collecting the wallets on the table.

"Why shouldn't I? You linger around Healin like a sick vulture, waiting for...gods know. You claim you don't have to work, and yet you're hanging around the ruins, possibly waiting to get your hands on some Shinra property to sell. You probably don't need the money. You'd probably get off knowing you caused a minor inconvenience to the company...because you still haven't let go of it. Of course, the funniest part of that...is that Shinra has let go of you." The words that followed came slowly and dripped with unnecessary cruelty. "Nobody cares about you."

Vincent narrowed his eyes slightly, a patronizing smirk taking over his lips. "Great detective work," he commended, reaching across the table to press his index finger into Reno's chest. "You've really hit the nail on the head. No wonder you've worked your way up to... Officer?"

"Fuck you," Reno shot back, quickly adding, "That system doesn't exist anymore."

At this, Vincent widened his eyes in illumination, slid out of the booth and headed for the exit.

"Wait," Reno called out. Vincent turned, unamused, to face the now-standing redhead. Reno threw a pair of bills onto the table from one of the confiscated wallets and returned it to his jacket pocket without once breaking eye contact.

"Are you not bored of me yet? This is nearing abuse," Vincent stated boredly.

"What are your plans today?" Reno asked, suddenly casual. Vincent raised an eyebrow, then turned back toward the door.

"You're not serious," he muttered, Reno now following close behind.

"Are you planning something against the Pres- the Board? Healin?"

"You think that by changing the words I won't recognize the same questions," Vincent answered without looking back. His hand reached for the silver handle of the exit door just as Reno maneuvered in front of him.

"Why not answer them, then? Why were you in the ruins today?"

Red orbs pored into Reno's bold stance, melting it away in silence.

"I've had some disturbing dreams," Reno suddenly confessed, surprising even himself, "about you."

A business-type pair of women approached the blocked door and raised their eyebrows at the admission that had come from the Turk. As they stole a glance at Vincent, he raised his eyebrows at them with a sarcastic look of shock. Reno rolled his eyes and stepped away from the door, allowing the women to quickly leave.

"You're an ass," he accused, embarrassed, but persistent in his questioning. "What I mean is I'm not usually wrong about these things. Your presence has proven questionable, and you know it."

"No good deed goes unpunished," Vincent told himself, forcefully pushing past Reno and out into the light of day. This time, the Turk remained on his heels.

"I don't want to consider you a threat. I want you to be likable, man. But give me some credit. I'm trying to do my job."

As Vincent turned around again, this time in the sidewalk, Reno noted the space bypassers gave him. Even they seemed to pick up on an unspoken threat about the man. His attention was quickly refocused on the other's eyes.

"I was protecting you." The words hit Reno like a brick. He froze, but let Vincent continue. "Anyone with common sense would recognize the danger of the area. You saved my life, I saved yours. I'm starting to have regrets."

A swell of emotion grew in Reno, freezing him into place as he fought to maintain his composure. The ground seemed to spin ever-so-slightly beneath his feet, no doubt a result of his last drink. His memory dragged him back to his own apartment, standing in front of a far less guarded ex-Turk, unfolding a portion of his own insecurity and putting it on display. He pushed the embarrassing memory further, and recalled the offer of commiseration in Vincent's response. By the time he had brought himself back to the sidewalk, Vincent was nearing the end of the block, on the verge of another disappearance. Reno wanted to call out, but instead decided to run.

When he caught up to Vincent, he had stepped into a long alley behind the bar and approached a black motorcycle. He was packing his cloak into a black case on the side of the long seat. Beneath the case rested the Death Penalty, held in place by a series of hooks and padlocks.

"Where are you going?" Reno asked, eye fixed on the bike.

"I know why you're following me," he answered, tying his hair back at the nape of his neck, easily showing more of his face than Reno had ever seen. The redhead suddenly felt self-conscious, bracing himself for more embarrassment. Vincent finished his thought. "I hope you do, too." Long legs straddled the bike and kick-started the engine to life. It rumbled lowly beneath him, perfectly accompanying his knowing look in the other's direction.

Reno grinned, a weight lifting slightly from his chest, and approached the bike.

The city became a blur as Reno sped through it on the back of a vehicle even he considered a death trap. For the first several blocks, he clamped his legs to the sides of the bike to keep himself upright and his hands off the driver. Quickly, the effort exhausted the muscles in his legs, and his abdomen burned from his balancing act. His eyes had fallen upon the flying strands of black hair directly in front of him and kept him transfixed, the dance of loose dark strands across white skin transfixing his attention until Vincent took a particularly sharp right turn, nearly sliding Reno's tired body off the back and into the street. To catch himself, he grabbed Vincent's sides, only to feel a swell of guilt as his right hand was sharply pulled upward, away from the vicious wound beneath. His fear of falling won out over his fear of crossing boundaries, causing him to wrap his arms around the base of Vincent's ribs.

Several minutes of riding this way passed, Reno unconsciously inhaling the scent of amber and metal and internally shaking off the uncomfortable remains of the last few months. As he held close to his former enemy, he turned his eyes from the road rushing by below to the much slower sky above. A sudden weightlessness overtook him, a sensation he had never felt without chemical inspiration.

Eventually they slowed, coming to a smooth stop in an alley between two tall, newly constructed buildings. Vincent slipped easily out of Reno's hold and wordlessly headed for the building on the corner of the block.

"What is this place? There's nothing in here," Reno noted upon entering the barren lobby of a future hotel. He followed Vincent through the ghostly quiet building to an industrial elevator at the back. Vincent operated the mechanical monstrosity smoothly, sliding open the metal cage door for Reno once they had reached the top floor.

He stepped out into a fully finished hallway that led to only two doors. Following Vincent's lead, he walked toward the further of the two. Using the only other key on his small silver ring, Vincent opened the heavy mahogany door and stepped inside. As Reno slipped in behind him, his eyes widened.

"So there's no furniture downstairs because they blew the budget up here," he quipped, slowly taking in the ultra-modern decor in the expansive penthouse. As he became aware of the silence in the space, an uneasiness grew in his chest. "Bathroom?" he asked quickly, looking around the corner of the living room and finding a full sized kitchen.

"Down the hall," Vincent answered, nodding to the darkened corridor at the right of the suite.

Out of sight in the hallway, Reno found the luxurious bathroom quickly, and stepped past it, curiously glancing into the room at the end of the hall. He found a large bedroom with two walls made of glass that curved upward to form a partial ceiling. The view consisted of Edge, and several miles beyond. The glass ended at a white ceiling that covered a king sized bed, resting a few inches off the white marble floor upon a black wooden platform. Industrial metal supports ran along the glass, curving upward at the ceiling. Reno shook his head at the large black and white room and retraced his steps toward the bathroom.

Closing the door behind him, Reno smirked at the long, black, double-sink vanity on his right. Tucked into an alcove on the left was a square bathtub, surrounded by smooth gray tiles that ran up the length of the walls. Above the tub, a square rain shower head ran flush with the ceiling. Leaning against the vanity, Reno stared into the alcove, suddenly visualizing the artificial rain in use...by its current owner. He shook the thought away and turned toward the mirror behind him. The cut across his neck had bled into his white collar. He rolled his eyes at the inconvenience the stain would eventually cause. Disappointed with his appearance, he pulled the goggles off of his forehead, running his fingers through the messy red strands they had held off his face.

"He knows why you're following him...so why are you following him?" he asked his reflection, hoping for a revelation that did not come. Instead, he splashed cold water on his face and bent over, resting his arms on the counter and his head on his arms. The suite outside filled with modern rock music. He was surprised by the choice, but quickly looking back into the mirror and shook his head. While replacing his goggles, he asked the reflection, "Why would you think you know anything about him?" As his hand hit the doorknob, he grinned._ But isn't that why you're here?_

The door had blocked much of the music, and when he stepped back into the hall, he knew the volume would prevent conversation. Once back in the main room, he found Vincent stretched out on the living room's long white couch, his right arm bent above his head, his left arm bent on his stomach, eyes closed. His hair had been untied and the headband removed, the wild strands now free to spill down over the edge of the furniture. The stark contrast of the couch's white fabric against the black of his hair and clothing held Reno's attention closely. The golden accessory shone against his black shirt, long fingers unfurled and relaxed. Surprised at Vincent's state of vulnerability, Reno took the single step down into the room, expecting red eyes to open. They did not. The unease mixed with a more familiar, though far more daunting feeling in Reno's stomach as he slowly scanned the lines of Vincent's long legs, lean torso, toned arms, the angles of his jaw, the perfectly smooth complexion of his face and neck, finally resting upon his expression. Vincent appeared completely relaxed, with a small arch to his left eyebrow. It sent a shiver through Reno. He wanted to ask why the man looked so smug, but knew his voice could not compete with the music filling the air around them.

As he stared down at Vincent, the daunting feeling identified itself, and sent him reeling in the memory of its last appearance.

_"Your day is coming. Soon enough, you'll have the whole company under your care. If I were you...I would enjoy the opportunity to be a reckless twenty-something while I had it."_

_Rufus smirked. "So, if you were me, you would just be...you."_

_Reno nodded, a flourish of his hands cementing his argument. "Who wouldn't?"_

_The blond rolled his eyes, finishing the amber liquor at the bottom of his glass. He set the empty glass upon the slick granite countertop, then turned and pushed himself up, sitting several inches above Reno._

_"Knowing that I'll never be you, indulge me," he began, slurring slightly as his fourth drink weighed down his tongue, "How does one become a reckless twenty-something?"_

_Red eyebrows raised, then angled devilishly. "Oh, it's simple, really. It's all about following those instinctual impulses you're so good at suppressing. Instead of pretending they're not there, you amplify them, give them the attention they deserve," he explained smoothly from a backless barstool upon which he had begun to struggle to balance. "You recognize what it is you want in any given moment, and you just go get it. Take it. Sometimes," he drawled, his voice suddenly sarcastic, "you may even have to leave your apartment to go get it."_

_The topic was familiar, and Rufus deflected it easily. "I have no interest in leaving this place." Reno rolled his eyes, having anticipated such a response. Rufus continued coyly, "And why would I, when what those animalistic impulses want...is already here?"_

_"What a challenge, then. You, so used to having everything delivered right to you...will have to put forth the effort yourself. I won't be falling into your lap...Sir."_

_Rufus smiled slightly, narrowing his eyes on his prey. The new tension in the atmosphere lit a fire inside Reno, his own lips curling upward as Rufus prepared to pounce._

The images of the memory began to fade. The colors drained to gray, and a series of images flashed only briefly in his mind: Rufus sitting behind the President's desk for the first time; the Diamond attack; entering the Healin lodge for the first time, the tenth time, the fortieth time; Midgar, destroyed; Rufus waking at Healin; the waterfall; red eyes; a smile of sharp canines that did not belong to Rufus at all.

When he came back to reality, the music told him he'd not been gone long. His eyes fell easily upon the suddenly familiar lips as his own words advised him. _You will have to put forth the effort yourself._


	8. Chapter 8

His legs had carried him the short distance to the edge of the couch, and he stood frozen, eyes locked onto a motionless face framed by hair like black feathers. Thin fingers stretched at the thought of touching it, feeling it pour through his palm, or tickle his collarbone as it had on the trip through the city. It took a new favorite song with a strong bassline to finally propel him out of inaction.

As his hands came down on either side of Vincent's head, red eyes remained closed. When Reno's knees came to rest on the thin spaces left on either side of Vincent's waist, the body below remained still. Only when he lowered his face to within inches of the other's ear, did he finally elicit a response.

"I know why I've followed you," he stated evenly, inhaling the amber, metallic scent from before. He was too close to see the red eyes open, but clearly heard the husky voice command,

"Prove it."

Adrenaline racing through his body, Reno buried his hands in the thick ink of Vincent's hair. At the same time, his lips connected with the porcelain skin beneath the other's ear. They curled upward at the sound of a sigh from beneath him. The metallic hand slid out from under his stomach and connected with his side, causing the muscles beneath it to tense.

"Does this make you nervous?" Vincent's suddenly velvety voice asked into his ear, warm breath causing Reno to press further into his smooth neck.

"Yes, it does," he admitted, smiling into warm skin that left a fascinating metallic taste at the back of his tongue.

"Then stop." The words hit like a punch to Reno's stomach. Nauseated embarrassment flooded him, freezing him in place, giving him no option but to listen to what followed. "You don't need this; you hide behind it." With this, Vincent used his hold on Reno's side to gently maneuver him into the inner edge of the sofa, their legs entwining for comfort. Long metallic fingers guided his head downward until it rested on Vincent's chest. "You're tired." Reno nodded, eyes still open and now staring down the length of their bodies. "So rest."

It took only a few minutes before the music coming in one ear and the sound of a heartbeat in the other cancelled out the constant barrage of self-deprecation. As embarrassment left his body, his muscles began to relax, allowing him for the first time to notice the long arm wrapped easily around him, the comforting shared body heat, the hypnotizing rise and fall of the chest beneath his head. The roaring streets several stories below were effectively silenced by the music of the room. In a fleeting moment of clarity, he recognized a feeling of security and chose not to question it, but instead, to give in.

.

When finally he opened his eyes again, the music had faded away into soft, classical instrumentals, a soundtrack that seemed as though it came with the penthouse. A cool shiver rattled his shoulders, and he realized his source of heat had slipped away. The thought that Vincent could literally maneuver out from under him without waking him disturbed him in an unexpected way. He turned onto his back and watched the ceiling for a few minutes, willing himself out of the lazy daze he had been lulled into. Stretching his arms, he glanced at his watch and jolted.

"Shit!" he cried, wondering how so many hours could have passed. He pushed himself up off the couch, eyes scanning the living room and kitchen for Vincent, who was absent. Smoothing his jacket in vain, he darted halfway down the hallway until he heard the sound of the shower running in the bathroom. His legs took him to the door, where he barely stopped himself from walking in. Instead, he knocked to announce himself.

"Did you drug me?" he called through the door, unable to believe he could sleep for an entire day in an unfamiliar place.

No response.

"I've got to get back to Healin. I'm leaving."

More silence.

Frustration with the lack of response mixed with genuine interest in what lay beneath the heavy black leathers, inspiring Reno to bite his lip as he slowly, silently turned the doorknob. He pushed the door open as little as possible to glance in the mirror, where he caught a reflection of a back that seemed sculpted from marble. Black strands reflected the dim light of the room as they stuck to wet skin. A knot formed in his stomach, causing him to pull the door closed with a smirk.

Stepping out into the city, he struggled for a moment to gain his bearings. Remembering the location of his own car, he rolled his eyes at the extra miles he had to travel. As he hailed a cab, his eyes wandered up to the penthouse he had just left, his head shaking once in disbelief.

Another hour passed before he climbed the stairs to the Lodge. The smell of antiseptic crashed his senses as he slipped into the building. The air was colder than he liked. Before entering the back room, he tried to pull the wrinkles from his blazer, to little success.

Rufus sat against headboard, his uncovered eye staring out the window toward the waterfall below. He did not turn.

"Back so soon?"

Reno bristled, then shrugged it off, pulling the collection of wallets from his inner jacket pockets. He dropped them into Rufus's lap one at a time.

"Was I supposed to know these assholes' schedules? They weren't just waiting for me at the city limits."

A blond eyebrow arched before Rufus finally turned to look at him. "You let them get a hold of you?" he asked nodding at the cut on Reno's neck.

"Only briefly. He came to regret it. I think it was the leader...of this group, at least."

"There are more?"

"I honestly don't know. It's possible. The operation seemed pretty half-assed. I mean, there were..." Reno paused to count the wallets on Rufus's lap, "seven of them? And, well, here I am."

"And what, exactly, were they after?"

"Records. Employee files. Arms connections." He paused again, suddenly recognizing the severity of his next words. "The science department. Lab reports."

Rufus stiffened visibly. "Who is buying these records?"

Reno had to shrug. "No names."

After a heavy sigh, Rufus asked for confirmation. "The threat is neutralized?"

Reno glanced at the blood on his cuffs. "This particular threat is neutralized." He pulled the silver chair up to the side of the bed and peeled off his jacket, tossing it over the back before sitting down. "Have you been up all day?"

Rufus nodded.

"You look tired."

"I am. But..." the thought died on his lips. He shook his head once to disregard it. Reno leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.

"But?"

The tension cracked as Rufus melted into his pillows, his eye closed in consternation. "I don't want to sleep."

Reno knew to translate the answer to, I'm afraid to sleep. He sighed.

"You won't get any better without rest."

"I've been 'resting' for weeks." When his eye opened, it had grown irritated, his blue iris glowing against the redness. "I want my company back. I want my body back. I don't have time for this," he growled, gesturing to the IV tubing in his arm and the bandage around his head.

Reno's mouth opened and closed twice, words of comfort falling away in pointlessness. Instead, he took a deep breath and stood, collecting the wallets from Rufus's lap and tossing them onto the bedside table. Ever-so-carefully, he slid into place next to his boss, his arm encircling thin shoulders.

"I know. I know you're frustrated. The company is in good hands." He suppressed a cringe as the words hit the air. "And you're staying awake more and more each day, right? You'll be back in business in no time. 'Someday we'll wake up and this will all be behind us,' remember? You told me that."

After a long moment of cool avoidance, Rufus finally leaned into Reno's shoulder, a position he had occupied more than once in their past. They remained in this position for half an hour, silently communicating support and gratitude to one another until Rufus finally raised his head, his nose resting in the crook of Reno's neck. He inhaled deeply, gathering strength to sit back up, when his brow furrowed.

"You have a new cologne?"

It took all of the training Reno had to keep from tensing up under the inspection.

"No, things got a little heated with one of those thugs. He got an arm around me. Hence the cut. Must have rubbed off on me."

"Hmm. Whoever he stole that from had good taste. It suits you."

"You want me smelling like a criminal, huh?"

"Like I said: It suits you."

Reno lightly jabbed Rufus in the arm before pulling him closer. Within minutes, the former president had fallen into a heavy sleep, happily inhaling the smell of metallic amber.


End file.
